I’ve been tagged in yet another Facebook meme. This one asks me to list fifteen books that I would like to read. That seems to be a pretty cool list to draw up; in fact, it seemed worthy enough to publish to my blog as well as to Facebook. Of course, fifteen seemed impossible, so I have taken the liberty of listing twenty books.

So here goes. This list is presented alphabetically by title, and of course it represents only a tiny fraction of the books on my “to read” list. If you want to read any of these books yourself, follow the links to purchase a copy at Amazon.

1. At Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O’Brien — A legendary comic Irish novel that is said to be as much of a masterpiece as anything by Joyce or Beckett.
2. The Cloud of Unknowing with the Book of Privy Counsel: A New Translation by Carmen Acevedo Butcher — Dr. Butcher lives near Atlanta and is friends with my good friend Darrell, who says this new translation has helped him to fall in love with The Cloud all over again.
3. The Complete Julian of Norwich by Father John-Julian, OJN — an annotated edition of Julian’s Revelation of Divine Love by the former superior of an Anglican contemplative order devoted to Julian.
4. Consuming Jesus: Beyond Race and Class Divisions in a Consumer Church by Paul Louis Metzger — This book is one of several titles on my to-read list that connect the dots between the Holy Eucharist and the subversive promise of Christian social thought.
5. Crunchy Cons: How Birkenstocked Burkeans, gun-loving organic gardeners, evangelical free-range farmers, hip homeschooling mamas, right-wing nature lovers, and their diverse tribe of countercultural conservatives plan to save America (or at least the Republican Party) by Rod Dreher — I might love this book or I might hate it, but either way I’m interested in the greening of the Republican party, which is what this book explores.
6. Deification and Grace: Introductions to Catholic Doctrine by Daniel A. Keating — deification is usually associated with Eastern Orthodoxy; this Catholic-oriented survey by a respected scholar (and published by a conservative press) looks interesting.
7. The End of Food: How the Food Industry is Destroying Our Food Supply—And What We Can Do About It by Thomas F. Pawlick — The politics of food production is something I think we all should be concerned about. It’s far beyond just being sure to buy organic: between GMOs and agribusiness, our health, our economy, and the ecology of the planet are all at risk.
8. Faithful Dissenters: Stories of Men and Women Who Loved and Changed the Church by Robert McClory — A reminder that there’s more ways to be a good Christian than just blindly following the rules.
9. The Gethsemani Encounter: A Dialogue on the Spiritual Life by Buddhist and Christian Monastics edited by Donald W. Mitchell and James Wiseman, O.S.B. — Christian-Buddhist dialogue emerging from a historic interfaith gathering of contemplatives at Gethsemani Abbey, where Thomas Merton lived.
10. The Gifts of the Christ Child & Other Stories and Fairy Tales by George MacDonald — Recommended to me by the abbot of the Monastery where I work, the fiction of this 19th-century Scottish mystic is saturated with his Celtic, optimistic worldview.
11. God Speaks in the Night: The Life, Times, and Teaching of St. John of the Cross edited by Silvano Giordano, OCD et al.; translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD — Lavishly illustrated biography of one of the Christian tradition’s greatest mystics, assembled by members of his Discalced Carmelite Order.
12. The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O’Connor by Flannery O’Connor, selected and edited by Sally Fitzgerald — Beneath the southern gothic weirdness of O’Connor’s fiction is an intelligent, perceptive, and devout Catholic artist, who shines through in this anthology of her correspondence.
13. Inhabiting the Cruciform God: Kenosis, Justification, and Theosis in Paul’s Narrative Soteriology by Michael J. Gorman — There’s been quite a buzz about this book on Twitter; I’m particularly interested in it because it’s a Protestant exploration of deification.
14. Joyce’s Book of the Dark: Finnegans Wake by John Bishop — I’m not sure if this book will make Finnegans Wake any more comprehensible, but it looks like a fun exploration of the mythic dreamscapes found within that most enigmatic of Irish novels.
15. King of Mysteries: Early Irish Religious Writings by John Carey — anthology of the treasures of ancient Celtic Christian literature, edited by one of the most perceptive scholars of the field.
16. Merton & Hesychasm: The Prayer of the Heart (The Eastern Church) edited by Bernadette Dieker and Jonathan Montaldo — A generous anthology of writings by and about Thomas Merton, concerning his interest in Eastern Orthodox spirituality and the Jesus Prayer tradition.
17. Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism by Grace M. Jantzen — Jantzen’s book on the theology of Julian of Norwich was wonderful, so I’m curious to see what she has to say about mysticism as a whole.
18. Quest for the Grail by Richard Rohr — I love Rohr’s work on emergence Christianity and contemplation, so I figure I’d enjoy seeing what he has to say about masculine spirituality.
19. Saving Paradise: How Christianity Traded Love of This World for Crucifixion and Empire by Rita Nakashima Brock and Rebecca Ann Parker — Not sure if I buy this book’s thesis or not, but I’m willing to give it a try: the authors argue that early Christian art (and, therefore, theology) was far more positive and life-affirming than the obsession with the crucifixion that emerged in the middle ages.
20. Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community: Eight Essays by Wendell Berry — A book recommended to me by a spiritual director years ago, but which I never read: arguing for the link between authentic/healthy faith, community, small-scale agriculture, and living in harmony with the earth.

So there you go. Now, what’s your list?

I don’t normally venture into politics in this blog. I believe that contemplative prayer and Christian mysticism are for everyone, across the political spectrum. However, a blog post that I have just read, critiquing a prominent Catholic pundit who appears to have let his partisan politics cloud his assessment of Papal teaching, is, I believe, worth passing on, and contains a lesson for all of us.

George Weigel, who has made a career for himself exploiting the relationship between Catholic teaching and conservative politics, has shot himself in the foot, now that Pope Benedict XVI has issued an encyclical, Caritas in Veritate (Charity in Truth), which in part dares to challenge Mr. Weigel’s ideological right-wing political agenda. After praising Pope Benedict for years — ever since his days as Cardinal Ratzinger, in service to Pope John Paul II — now Weigel is suddenly attempting to deconstruct (and, thereby, discredit) the Pope’s message, blaming it on internal intrigue at the Vatican rather than simply rushing to defend it (which is what Weigel usually does, whenever a Papal document is sufficiently conservative). Thankfully, the blogosphere is taking him to task for this about-face, and none more eloquently than the Evangelical Catholicism blog, in this post: On the Sheer Implausibility of George Weigel’s Story.

As someone who has long been uncomfortable with the way that politically-conservative Catholics attack those who are left of center for alleged disloyalty to the church, it’s satisfying, if not entirely consistent with Christian charity, to see a prominent conservative get a dose of his own medicine.

Particularly illuminating are the comments that readers have left in response to the Evangelical Catholicism piece. I think this one pretty much says it all:

My less than charitable opinion of George Weigel has always been that he is 75% neocon and 25% Catholic with an unfettered ego bordering on arrogance. I believe this piece proves me correct. And don’t expect him to retract it. It would be much more in character for Weigel and his fans in the Neocon Alternate Universe to attack anyone who dares to attack him (for attacking the Pope).

Now, what is the lesson here? I believe that it is both foolish and unchristian to denounce our political (or theological) opponents for being defective in their faith. It’s one thing to say “I disagree with you, and here’s why,” but it’s another thing to say “Not only do I disagree with you, but you are therefore a bad Christian.” If we want to challenge one another’s politics, fine; if we want to critique each other’s theology, well, all’s fair in love and war (and blogging). But for too long now, when liberal and progressive Catholics dare to criticize church teaching or Papal pronouncements, the right has rushed to attack the left for being “disloyal” to the church. But by doing that, the conservatives have unwittingly painted themselves into a corner: for if a document like Caritas in Veritate comes along that displeases the right, how can conservatives critique it, without laying themselves open to the very charges of “disloyalty” that they have so frequently hurled at progressives?

The moral of the story: vigorous debate and thoughtful criticism are essential components of liberty — even in a hierarchical church. “You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). But in order to serve God in truth and integrity, we all — regardless of our political position — need to refrain from applying double standards to our search for truth. Celebrating Papal teaching as beyond criticism when we agree with it, but then trying to explain it away when we don’t, simply doesn’t work — no matter how you vote.

I’ve just stumbled across a pretty sweet looking blog by a guy named Brad Culver, Living Water From an Ancient Well.

Of particular interest is his post on Mysticism.

The following quotation landed in my email inbox this morning from my good friend and co-conspirator Phil Foster, who in turn found it on Facebook… I traced it back to a wonderful website run by a Zen Quaker organic farmer in Virginia. The farm is called White Flint Farm and you can visit the website here. The quotation actually comes from an essay by Wendell Berry called “Christianity and The Survival of Creation” which can be found in his book Sex, Economy, Freedom, Community: Eight Essays. That’s when I had a “could’ve had a V8″ moment, complete with forehead-slapping. You see, a spiritual director of mine, back in the 90s when I was still an Episcopalian, recommended I read this book. Of course, I never did, more’s the pity. It would have been to my benefit to become familiar with Berry, who — based on this quote — is clearly a prophetic voice about Christianity’s responsibility to the environment. Anyway, it’s better late than never and so now I’m eager to (finally) read this book. Meanwhile, if you want to know what the fuss is about, here’s the quote:

“Despite its protests to the contrary, modern Christianity has become willy-nilly the religion of the state and the economic status quo. Because it has been so exclusively dedicated to incanting anemic souls into heaven, it has, by a kind of ignorance, been made the tool of much earthly villainy. It has, for the most part, stood silently by, while a predatory economy has ravaged the world, destroyed its natural beauty and health, divided and plundered its human communities and households. It has flown the flag and chanted the slogans of empire. It has assumed with the economists that “economic forces” automatically work for good, and has assumed with the industrialists and militarists that technology determines history. It has assumed with almost everybody that “progress” is good, that it is good to be modern and up with the times. It has admired Caesar and comforted him in his depredations and defaults. But in its de facto alliance with Caesar, Christianity connives directly in the murder of Creation. For, in these days, Caesar is no longer a mere destroyer of armies, cities, and nations. He is a contradictor of the fundamental miracle of life. A part of the normal practice of his power is his willingness to destroy the world. He prays, he says, and churches everywhere compliantly pray with him. But he is praying to a God whose works he is prepared at any moment to destroy. What could be more wicked than that, or more mad?

The religion of the Bible, on the contrary, is a religion of the state and the status quo only in brief moments. In practice, it is a religion for the correction equally of people and of kings. And Christ’s life, from the manger to the cross, was an affront to the established powers of his time, as it is to the established powers of our time. Much is made in churches of the “good news” of the gospels. Less is said of the gospel’s bad news, which is that Jesus would have been horrified by just about every “Christian” government the world has ever seen. He would be horrified by our government and its works, and it would be horrified by him. Surely no sane and thoughtful person can imagine any government of our time sitting comfortably at the feet of Jesus, who is telling them to “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you…” (Matt. 5:44).

— Wendell Berry

If you’re interested in the future of monasticism and other forms of consecrated religious life, read this article by Jose Maria Vigil, CMF: A Call To Religious Life Worldwide

Father Vigil argues that the collapse of religious life in Europe (and, by extension, in North and South America) is due not only to the secularization of society, but also to problems related to institutionalization: to excessive control by the church heirarchy and to the tendency that religious bureaucracy has to stultify prophetic and charismatic movements.

Even for those of us who are not “in” monastic or consecrated religious life, but who look to the traditions of monasticism and religious orders for our own spiritual guidance, there’s plenty to chew on here.

Last night I had a dream, and most of the details I now can’t recall. But I do remember that someone in the dream offered this nugget of wisdom:

In marriage, when you keep score, nobody wins. Frankly, that also holds true for miniature golf.

A friend of mine wrote me this note:

I struggle at times to see the point of non-mystic relationships with our Abba. I don’t want to judge but it feels as if mystics connect with God and all else is religion. Even as I prepare to go to a contemporary church service where many enjoy the worship and talking, I would rather just be somewhere quiet with my Source and Lover of my soul.

You’ve written somewhere on your website about the connection between mystics / contemplatives and INFP’s. Do we all connect with God in different ways and only a few of us are wired to be contemplative or are non-contemplatives living Martha lives busy doing for God instead of sitting at His feet?

Is it wrong to encourage others to this life because they are wired differently than me?

Here’s my reply:

My first thought is that I think we need to keep as broad a definition of “mysticism” as possible. My own spiritual director (a Trappist monk) has a very strong bias toward apophatic prayer, and I’m continually teasing/reminding him that the kataphatic path can be just as blessed by God. Based on what you’re saying, it sounds like you share my director’s natural affinity for the apophatic path. Alleluia. What is tricky, of course, is learning to accept those whose path is different from our own, especially when they seem to be hostile/critical in their assessment of our path.

As for your Mary/Martha question, I think the answer is “It depends.” Discernment is essential here. I do believe that even the most Martha person is occasionally called to Mary moments, and vice versa. If you come to the edge of a river and someone is drowning and there’s a rowboat with a life preserver there, “praying about it” is the wrong response. Those of us who are naturally apophatic/contemplative are continually being taught that loving service/work is a form of prayer — just as the natural activists have to learn that quiet contemplation is a form of action. I know this may sound like I believe ultimately we’re all called to some sort of uniform integration, but I don’t think that’s the case. The “Mary’s” of the world will always be more Mary than Martha, and vice versa. Incidentally, I believe that when Jesus tells Martha that “Mary has chosen the better part” it is NOT meant that contemplation is somehow “higher” than action — no matter what the Cloud of Unknowing says. Rather, I believe Our Lord is praising Mary for her presence and serenity — Mary could have been sitting there feeling guilty for letting Martha do all the work. Likewise, if Martha had been centered in joy as she served the guests, she too would have had “the better part.” Of course, I’m guilty of eisegesis here, and who knows, maybe Mary was a habitual slacker.

Back to you. I think the most telling statement in your letter is confessing your struggle to see “the point” of non-mystical religion. That’s worth investigating. I think several lines could be followed:

• Isn’t it possible that many people are what Thomas Merton called “masked contemplatives” — they engage in a contemplative practice without realizing it, or naming it as such? The Anglican theologian Martin Thornton wrote admiringly of the woman who got closer to God cutting up lettuce for a salad than did the monk busy with his Psalms and Rosaries (now there’s an inversion of the Mary/Martha story).
• Another thought is more evolutionary: today’s churchgoers are, at least potentially, tomorrow’s contemplatives. We don’t begrudge a seven-year old because they haven’t figured out calculus. Now, the problem with this analogy is that many churches try to inhibit the onset of contemplative consciousness, but that’s an obstacle to be overcome, not an ontology that can’t be avoided. And perhaps it’s up to us contemplatives to evangelize those who are only potential contemplatives?
• Finally, to quote my friend Bob Hughes, in his wonderful book Beloved Dust: “Indeed, because love of God cannot be seen reliably, the only visible measure we have for someone’s progress in the spiritual life is an increase of effective love for the neighbor.” In other words, God gives us people to love so that we can grow in both love of God & love of neighbor, and sooner or later this means learning to love those we see as hard to love or unlovable. For contemplatives, those who are frenetic and activist in their religious observance are often trying and tiring. But those are precisely the people God has made our neighbors. We have our marching orders…

As for your final question: no, I don’t think it’s wrong to speak of contemplation with others; as I say, maybe we are called to evangelize those who have not yet tasted refreshing waters found at the well of contemplation. But just as ordinary evangelists can backfire if they come on too strong, I think discretion is essential here. Maybe rather than encouraging others, we simply should be in the business of inviting them when we feel led to do so. And then leave the “encouraging” to the Holy Spirit. Also, I do think that learning to love non-contemplatives just as they are is a necessary pre-requisite to effectively sharing contemplative spirituality with them. If people get an intuitive sense that we’re trying to “fix” them or somehow make them more like us, they will naturally (and probably justifiably) defy our efforts, no matter how well-intentioned. As always, humility is a strong ally here.

I hope these thoughts are helpful in some small way. Stay in touch!

Tonight veteran Christian singer/guitarist Phil Keaggy gave a benefit concert at a Baptist Church in Lilburn (just north of Atlanta) for the Gwinnett County Special Olympics. I’ve been a fan of Phil Keaggy since the mid-1970s when a friend introduced me to his albums What a Day and Love Broke Thru. Keaggy is a masterful guitarist whose virtuosity is straight out of the classic rock/jam band era, and his vocals and musical styling are reminiscent of Paul McCartney.  This is the third time I’ve seen him in concert. We purchased “Artist’s Circle” tickets this year, which enabled us to attend a reception before the concert, meet Phil, and have our picture taken with him.

Here’s the setlist:

Just the Same
Thank You For Today
Strong Tower
The Wind and the Wheat
Little Star
John the Revelator
What a Day
Here Comes the Sun -> Jesus is Just Alright
Shades of Green
Look Deep Inside
Rockin’ in a Hard Place
Little Ones
Love Broke Thru -> Jam -> Amazing Grace

Love Divine
Reunion of Friends
Salvation Army Band
If I Fell
Jam
You Have My Heart
County Down
Let Everything Else Go

This is the second year that Phil Keaggy headlined a benefit concert for the Gwinnett Special Olympics, and there’s already talk about doing it again next year. If you are in or near Atlanta, plan on being there — we certainly will.

There is no need to be peculiar in order to find God. The Magi were taught by the heavens to follow a star and it brought them, not to a paralyzing disclosure of the Transcendent, but to a little boy on his mother’s knee.

— Evelyn Underhill, The House of the Soul

My own experience in a variety of contexts suggests that the number one problem, the most common source of resistance to both evangelization and spiritual growth in Christian terms, is the angry, punishing father-god of patriarchal oppression. It is something of a mystery to me that this God concept, so foreign to the actual contents of the gospel and Jesus’ picture of his Abba, should be assumed by so many to be what in fact Christianity offers, and the degree to which it remains embedded in Christian literature and art. Furthermore, I find this problematic image deeply infecting all “brands” of Christianity, from the most anti-ecclesial charismatic/evangelical to Catholic to liberal. I do not mean they all deliberately teach it, but rather that all are somehow infected by it, one way or another, indeed have embraced it, even in rejection of it. Many have abandoned or rejected Christianity because their affective and intellectual development has rendered this notion of God intolerable, and they do not know and indeed often cannot imagine that Christianity has something else to offer. Intellectual conversion will mean, as Shug says to Celie in The Color Purple, first, you gotta get that angry old white man out of your head. It will then mean finding truer images of God in the tradition itself. For most of us this will obviously also include some psychological sorting out of our own family/childhood issues.

— Robert Davis Hughes III, Beloved Dust:
Tides of the Spirit in the Christian Life